


The Crystal Vase

by blushing_phan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:00:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7236430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blushing_phan/pseuds/blushing_phan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hi there! So, I suppose this is my first published fanfiction! Here, I'll add a little summary:<br/>Phil is (predictably) in love with Dan. He knows all of Dan's little idiosyncrasies and adores every inch of him. However, even though Phil can see right through him, Dan continues to insist that he's perfectly fine, when he clearly isn't. Very mild angst, lots and lots of playful fluff. I hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crystal Vase

To Phil, Dan was a living, breathing crystal vase.  


He was tall, alluring, delicate. He took pretty things and magnified their beauty and lit up any room he set foot in. He was unique, and Phil never grew tired of looking at him. He had never met anyone like Dan in his life. 

Along with all of these splendid qualities, though, Dan was also completely and utterly translucent. 

When he was feeling happy, he absolutely sparkled with joy. When he was angry, his temperament rumbled like a distant thunderstorm, threatening to cascade down upon those around him. When he was hurt or sad, he became small and timid. Phil knew every emotion, every facial expression, what each flush of the cheek meant, and precisely what was going through Dan’s mind at any given moment. However, despite Dan’s hyaline personality, he always, without fail, insisted that nothing was wrong. Even as he sat with his arms folded over his chest, mouth in a tight line, jaw tense, he would deny any allegation that Phil made regarding his huffy state.  


Especially today.  


It began almost as soon as Dan woke up. The sound of a ceramic mug banging against the counter made Phil jump, which was quite a feat since he was in the lounge, followed by the slamming of a fridge door and stomping socked feet against linoleum.  


_“Uh oh.” _Phil thought, preparing himself for impact. In a futile attempt to diffuse the situation before it began, he looked around for the remote control and clicked the television on. Scrolling as quickly as his fingers would allow, he found the last episode of Masterchef that they had recorded and turned it on, his eyes trained worriedly on the door. Seconds later, it was shoved open perhaps a touch too harshly, and in came Dan, in his fuming glory.__  


“Good morning!” Phil said, overly-bright, venturing to cheer Dan up. He even put on a radiant smile, the kind that usually made Dan feel wobbly at the knees, but not today. Today, he was met with a glower and a noncommittal grumble.  


“Morning.” Then silence.  


That stretch of silence spoke volumes; Dan hated silence, even when he was meant to be focused on something, his fingers were tapping, music was playing, or he was drumming against whatever surface was closest. If nobody else would fill a silence, Dan would. Except for today, because now, he was utterly hushed.  


Now, Phil was certain something was wrong.  


“Dan...what’s the matter?” he asked, his hand creeping towards the remote once more, this time to mute the television.  


“I was watching that,” Dan replied, his voice tight with irritation, the hand that didn’t have a white-knuckled grip on his coffee mug darting out to snatch the remote. Phil’s reflexes, for once, did not fail him, and he was just quick enough to grab it before Dan could, resulting in a cold, hard stare.  


“Answer me,” Phil said, less of a demand and more of a gentle plea. “I hate it when you’re upset.”  


“I’m fine,” Dan said through clenched teeth, his gaze returning to the TV screen, although there still wasn't any sound to accompany the picture.  


Phil took a deep breath; he hadn’t wanted to argue, but it seemed Dan wasn’t going down without a fight.  
“You don’t have to lie to me. I’ve known you long enough to know how you think and how you feel, and I just think you-”  


“Shut _up _, Phil.”__  


“...What?”  


“I said, _shut up _.”__  


Now, it wasn’t as if Dan had never said those particular words to Phil before. However, the sharp edge of the phrase was usually softened by Dan’s infectious laughter, a gentle shove, some inkling of affection that apprised Phil of Dan’s amity. That wasn’t the case this time. The only accompanying expression was a severe glare that pierced Phil like icy daggers.  


Customarily, it was at this point that Dan would feel guilt fluttering in his stomach. The way Phil was stuttering, the shock that was clear on his face, and his obviously lacerated feelings would normally result in an immediate apology from a humbled Dan, followed by a tender embrace, the back of a finger stroking a cheek, a squeeze of the hands.  


Silence.  


“...O-okay.”  


With fumbling fingers, Phil turned the volume up again before pushing the remote closer to Dan, his teeth digging into his lower lip. They sat in a pressing silence, the tension in the air enough to make Phil shiver, until it was too much for him to handle. Quietly, as if attempting to simply disappear, Phil stood, mumbling some half-hearted excuse about going to do the washing up, and slipped out of the room, leaving Dan to stew in his own irritation.  


They avoided one another essentially all day. Dan had stormed off into his own bedroom shortly after Phil had left the lounge that morning, denouncing the world with a resolute slamming of his door. Once he was sure it was safe, Phil was free to roam the rest of the flat, attempting to distract himself from dwelling on Dan’s rotten attitude.  
He sat in the office, using his legs to propel himself in a half circle as he edited, whistling a soft tune to himself as he went along. As he edited out a rather flat, uninteresting section of their most recent video for the gaming channel, he paused; in the frame, a bright, almost incandescent smile illuminated Dan’s face, complete with all of the tell-tales of genuine joy; the crinkle at the corners of Dan’s eyes, which were squinted and sparkling, his dimples (Phil’s absolute favorite part of Dan’s face) cratering his soft, flushed cheeks.  


Oh, Dan was beautiful.  


Phil felt an unruly pinch in his chest. He truly, truly did detest Dan’s malcontent, because he knew precisely how a negative perception affected him. It caused his brain to grind to a stop, mucking up his thoughts with pessimism and hopelessness. It resulted in a lost sense of purpose, an attitude that read like a depressing news headline. It broke Phil’s heart to watch Dan deteriorate this way, because he knew that when Dan was inspired, his brain worked in unimaginably beautiful ways, set him alight with innovation and allowed him to prosper and revel in what he loved to do, which was create.  
Phil looked longingly at frame, a snippet of beauty frozen in time, before he deleted it with a sigh, and continued to edit.  


Around dinner time, Dan’s arctic exterior began to defrost, and Phil knew this because he could hear the soft tinkling of piano keys as he sat in the lounge with a mug of hot chocolate between his hands and Guardians of the Galaxy on the television. His socked feet padded softly against the floor as he approached Dan’s room; to his surprise, the door was partially opened. With his hand pressed flat against the cool, white wood, Phil opened the door and slipped in. Dan sat at the piano, his slender fingers sailing beautifully over the keys. Secretly, Phil was jealous of Dan’s musical ability, although Dan never gave himself credit for how beautifully he could play.  


Dan never gave himself credit for much.  


Phil lingered at the frame of the door, just listening. He even closed his eyes; Dan was playing something classical, an unfamiliar tune. It washed over him, like a wave in a gentle tide pool, cleansing his mind. He hoped Dan experienced the same sensation. Maybe that was why he played.  


“Hey.” Dan said softly, as his hands slowed to a stop. Of course, he didn’t have to use his eyes to sense Phil’s presence. In fact, he was still looking down at the instrument, as though he were ashamed of something.  


“That was lovely,” Phil tried, a gentle smile gracing his features, though Dan was refusing his gaze. He approached carefully, until he was standing right beside Dan. “Come on.”  


Phil offered out a hand, and Dan hesitated for a fraction of a moment, before he took it. Phil’s hand was warm and soft, and their fingers slotted together flawlessly. It was a comforting feeling, the familiarity of the touch. It felt like home.  


Phil tugged Dan to his feet and lead him over to the bed, where Dan collapsed gratefully.  


“Hey, scooch over.” Phil smiled, nudging Dan’s side in a playful attempt to elicit a smile.  
Nothing.  


When Dan wiggled over to make room, Phil crawled into the bed and lay down beside him. He knew Dan liked to share beds, and he had a keen feeling that it was because it made him feel protected and reminded him that he wasn’t alone. He looked over at Dan, but Dan’s eyes were closed. He needed to do something about this, quickly.  
Suddenly, an idea sparked in Phil’s brain, and he gasped dramatically. The gasp startled Dan, who gave a little jump and looked at Phil, alarmed. Before he could say anything, though, Phil sat up and began to look around frantically.  


“Dan!” he said, as he lifted up the pillows, “Your dimple is missing!”  


Dan drew his eyebrows together in confusion, his mouth opening and closing several times as he watched Phil tumble off the bed and peer underneath it.  


“Did it fall off? How long has it been missing?” Phil asked, his eyes wide as he clambered to his feet, peering at the piano and looking beneath the chair in front of it. “Come to think of it, Dan, I haven’t see it all day! How long has it been missing? Why didn’t you tell me?”  


Dan wasn’t stupid. He knew what Phil was trying to pull, and the part of him that was still behaving cynically didn’t want to fall for it. However, that part of him was tiny. He sat up, watching Phil act silly just to make him smile, and he felt a pang in his stomach. He recalled to mind several hours earlier, when he had snapped at Phil simply for asking why he was upset. Oh, boy, did he feel guilty…  


Before he had time to dwell on it, though, he was knocked backwards. Dizzied by the sudden impact, he looked up and directly into Phil’s seawater eyes, which were frantically searching his face, their noses barely an inch apart.  


“I’m sorry, Dan, I can’t find it. The dimple...it’s gone,” he whispered, his lower lip poking out, before he buried his head in Dan’s neck. The sudden action was met with a soft squeak from Dan as he felt Phil’s nose, lips, and eyelashes grazing the highly sensitive skin and sending ripples of tingles down his spine.  


“Phil-” he said, feeling his lips trying to curve into a smile, but fighting the inclination. Phil. however, heard the littlest glimmer of a smile in Dan’s voice, and peeked up.  


“Dan! I think I might know how to get your dimple back,” Phil murmured, his eyes scanning the room as though he were trying to keep a secret.  


“Phil, no, no, n-” Dan began, but he was far too late. Phil nestled back into his neck and shoulder and began to nuzzle his nose there, soft coos emitting from him as he did so. Dan whined and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the intolerable sensation, attempting to scrunch up and protect himself, but he could only resist for so long before he began to giggle.  


The sound was music to Phil’s ears, surpassing the beauty of the piano music tenfold and directly touching his heart. He lifted his face, delighting in the expression of relatively helpless joy radiating from Dan, before he reached up and tickled Dan’s cheek with his fingers lovingly, his thumb brushing the precious little divot fondly.  


“Look, Dan! We’ve found the dimple!” he celebrated, leaning in to press a kiss to Dan’s nose. Once Dan finally recovered from his giggle fit, he looked up at Phil with tender eyes. He could hardly believe how lucky he was to have someone like Phil to put up with him, someone who loved him even at his worst, and even supported him unconditionally. It was something Dan had never really known. 

All at once, a flood of regret filled his chest and stomach like ice water, and before he could stop it, he felt tears prickling his eyes. His hands moved up to cover his face; he didn’t want to cry in front of Phil. It was too embarrassing.  


“Hey…” Phil began, sensing the change in Dan’s demeanor. He climbed off of Dan and sat in front of him, a hand moving tentatively to rub his knee carefully. “Dan...why are you upset, huh?” he asked, his voice light and patient. Dan winced, feeling his whole body tremble in an attempt to suppress his tears.  


“I’m sorry...I yelled at you earlier...when you were only trying to help me,” he said, his voice a quivering whisper, his face still hidden. “I don’t deserve you.”  


Phil softened. “Oh, Dan…”  


He reached forward and pulled Dan’s hands away from his face, before guiding him into his arms. Dan wrapped his arms tightly around Phil’s neck, and he held on tight. Phil could feel the younger man shivering. Using his thumbs, he rubbed Dan’s lower back soothingly, but remained quiet. He didn’t want Dan to feel pressure to speak, so he allowed a comfortable, safe silence to settle over them like a warm blanket, granting Dan the ability to feel safe.  


Some time passed, an exact amount had no matter, before Dan lifted his face to look at Phil. He was met with a docile smile and a gentle peck to the cheek, which made him blush.  


“Are you feeling better?” Phil asked, bringing a hand up to brush the back of his finger beneath Dan’s eyes, expelling the last of the drying tear tracks and offering him an affectionate, familiar gesture. Dan nodded meekly, feeling exposed and a touch embarrassed at his sudden uprising of emotion.  


“You don’t need to be sorry. About earlier. I know you didn’t mean it,” Phil soothed, as he pushed his hands up into the hem of Dan’s hoodie so he could feel the warm, soft skin of his back. “You’re just...sensitive. You feel a whole bunch of emotions all the time, but it’s not bad. It’s wonderful. It’s just who you are. There’s nothing wrong with that.”  


Dan sighed, pulling back enough to look down at Phil. “You are...so nice to me. And I yell at you for it. How is that fair? You shouldn’t...shouldn’t put up with it. And I shouldn’t act like a twat.”  


Phil laughed; Dan had a knack for self-depreciating humor, although sometimes, Phil wished he had a knack for self-appreciation instead. “You’re not a twat. You’re just a big baby,” he teased, and Dan huffed in self defense.  


“I am not!” he retorted, giving Phil a playful shove. Phil retaliated, giving Dan a push backwards into the pillows.  


“Why, Dan, I think your dimple has gone again!” he said, mischief in his eyes as he ignored Dan’s threats and plunged his hands into Dan’s stomach, tickling him without mercy. 

As Dan laughed his loud, obnoxious, stunning laugh, curse words mingling with spluttered pleas, Phil couldn’t help but laugh, too, because Dan’s happiness was only the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.  


Dan was a crystal vase, and Phil was the one who picked up the pieces when he broke and put him back together. He didn’t mind, though. He was in love.


End file.
